It’s that time of year again.
Time for resolutions.
I don’t mean exercising–which I do plan to do, I even got a mini elliptical from my always attuned hubby for Christmas–or losing weight (if it happens, especially from the tum, that’d be great). And definitely not make sure to treasure each moment (I really, truly do, except maybe for the ones where a rejection has just come in) or be more patient with the kids ( writing and the thirtieth request for a banana–especially after I’ve already fulfilled the ones for milk, juice, cheese, a plate of strawberries, and even a treat–will just never work; luckily those moments are far rarer than the rejection ones).
No, I mean writing resolutions.
The ones that are in our control (start a new novel) and the ones that aren’t (get a book contract).
Side note. My eldest and I were driving. I was ruminating on the myriad frustrations of life as a mostly unpublished writer. Long silence from the back. Then, “Mommy? Is a book contract the kind of thing you could get…someone for their birthday?”
Yes, my birthday was coming up.
It’s since passed.
I don’t want another one to.
Can you make resolutions you have almost no control over keeping?
What are yours?